Constellation
by FrequencyOnion
Summary: A collection of mShenko ficlets of various lengths. Some silly, some sweet, and some a touch spicy. More to be added!
1. What Matters

**What Matters**  
Summary: New Year's Eve in London.

* * *

Cold wind gusted across the back of John's neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He tugged his collar up and stuffed bare hands deep into his coat pockets. Thinking he could go out in this weather without gloves was ridiculous. Not that it was anywhere near Noveria levels of cold, but the relentless drizzle magnified the wintry nip in the air.

And his bum knee was acting up again. No doubt in protest of its subjection to this miserable excuse for weather. What he wouldn't give to play lazy house cat for a day, stretched out on a sunny beach. Sinking his toes deep into sugary sand, listening to gulls wheeling in the breeze.

But tropical sunlight wasn't found in these latitudes-or much sunlight at all for that matter. A much different source of warmth radiated against his back. "You're shivering," Kaidan murmured, sliding his hands into John's pockets. Their fingers tangled together, massaging warmth into cold digits.

"I-it's f-fine," John stuttered, his teeth chattering. He squeezed the other man's hands, biting his lip against a goofy grin as he felt new metal bands catch on one another. Best Christmas ever.

When was the last time he'd cared about the holidays anyway? Definitely back when he was just a kid, when he'd wake to an avalanche of colorful, wrapped boxes spilling from underneath the family tree. That much anticipated new model ship hidden somewhere in one of them. Funny how kids equated material things with love.

They also had no comprehension of how fragile their lives were, something he didn't grasp until he'd lost his parents. Those simple joys and little luxuries once taken for granted were suddenly replaced by a grueling struggle for survival and unfamiliar loneliness.

Yet here he was, some twenty years later, freezing his ass off while standing in line for the biggest New Year's Eve bash London would ever see. Alive and well.

And no longer alone.

He'd given up on love ages ago, yet it somehow found him anyway. Chasing him through hell and back, catching up with him in the most unlikely of places. He had a home again, and someone to lean on as they weathered the trials of life together. Considering what they'd been through, he imagined it could only get better.

They shuffled forward. The drizzle had since turned to fat raindrops, soaking into damp woolen layers. And despite the late hour, the door was still a long way off.

His body trembled against another chill, and Kaidan hugged him closer, sharing his warmth. "How about we just go home and celebrate? We'll grab a bottle of champagne on the way, and get out of these wet clothes."

John tipped his head back. "You just want to get me home so you can have your way with me," he teased, keeping his voice low.

"Can you blame me?" Kaidan whispered back, his warm breath tickling John's ear.

A low growl rumbled in John's throat. "Let's go."

They were barely a block away from their building when the gloomy night sky lit up with blossoms of color. So much for that romantic midnight celebration in the comforts of their warm, dry apartment. They ducked under the nearest overhang and huddled together as they watched the show in the distance. Far from ideal, but at least they were out of the elements.

John looked away after a moment. He touched Kaidan's cheek and turned the other man's face to his. "Happy New Year," he smiled, pressing their lips together.

"Happy New Year, John." Kaidan smiled against his lips.

Life hadn't left John much, but that was fine by him; he had all that he needed.


	2. First Draft

**First Draft**  
Summary: John Shepard writes a novel.

* * *

"So? What do you think?" John asked eagerly. He set his glass down on the coffee table and flopped onto the couch. He took the datapad from Kaidan and glanced down at it. _Mass Effect by John Shepard_, a memoir of those few chaotic and unbelievable years after joining the Normandy's crew.

Kaidan draped an arm around John's shoulders. "I didn't know you could write so well."

John leaned against him and cracked a smile. "I didn't either. I mean, have you seen my reports?" His reports were notoriously awful. They'd always been put off until last-if he remembered to do them at all-and it showed. And that was assuming he took them seriously, which pretty much never happened.

Kaidan barked a laugh. "I can't believe they accepted those things."

"I bet they just stopped reading them after awhile." John leaned over and took a sip of his drink before settling back against Kaidan. "Seriously, though, how was it? It's just a first draft and all so it's not perfect, but..." He hated to sound so self-deprecating, but he was out of his element here.

"It was... intense." Kaidan's voice was quiet, roughened by a twinge of emotion. "Brought back a lot of memories I guess I'd been intentionally forgetting."

Setting the datapad aside, John rested his head on Kaidan's shoulder and turned to drape an arm across Kaidan's waist. John wished he could forget those memories. "It's the opposite for me. I've never been able to stop thinking about everything. Figured if I put the words down, maybe they'd get outta my head."

"And did they?"

"Yeah. Turned out to be...cathartic...for me." John wrinkled his nose. He couldn't imagine he'd ever used such a word until he'd run across it while writing. So fussy and educated for a guy like him, a guy who found it easier to wage war than to write about it. And maybe that was another reason he'd written his story. To show that he was more than some dumb soldier who'd taken a few too many knocks to the head, that it hadn't been easy for him. "It was good for me," he murmured.

"Do you think you'll publish it?" Kaidan asked, rubbing idly at John's shoulder.

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably." He'd been courted numerous times for a book deal, but always turned down the offers. Writing wasn't something he felt he could do at the time, and it definitely wasn't something he wanted to-and couldn't-force. Maybe this manuscript wasn't the most eloquent or polished, but it was better than anything he would've written had he forced it.

"This is why I love you, you know that?" Kaidan kissed John's hair. "You're so unpredictable and talented."

John leaned back and wrapped a hand around Kaidan's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. "Don't forget incredibly handsome," he drawled, pressing another kiss to Kaidan's lips. "And creative." Another kiss. "And amazing in bed," he added with a cheeky grin.

Brown eyes sparked with mischief and John found himself pushed down onto the couch. Kaidan swung a leg over, straddling his hips, and captured his lips in a messy kiss. "Shouldn't you be editing or something?" he growled. The deep, throaty sound sent a shiver of anticipation through John.

"Later. Right now I'm busy researching my next book. I think I'll call it _Black & Blue_," he said, waving his hand with a dramatic flourish. "Torn apart by war and circumstances, will the brave commander ever be reunited with the hunky major?" A terrible premise, but people ate up that sort of thing. They could probably live off the royalties from that book alone.

Kaidan rolled his eyes.

John pulled the datapad from underneath himself and tossed it onto the table. Turning back, he reached up and threw his arms around Kaidan's neck. "C'mon hunky major," he smirked, "we've got work to do."


	3. Ocean Water

**Ocean Water**  
Summary: Kaidan's favorite color.

* * *

"C'mon," John laughed. "It's not a hard question." Green eyes stared expectantly at Kaidan. "What's your favorite color?"

No, it wasn't, and Kaidan knew without a doubt that his answer was turquoise blue. Not just plain old blue or green either; something reminiscent of...ocean water. And not that murky sapphire blue of English Bay, but the bright waters of the Caribbean, in that sweet spot where land meets sea. He'd never seen them outside of travel vids, but John promised to remedy that one day. Skinny palm trees, golden sand, turquoise water.

And the color of John's eyes.

Not that he would admit any of that to anyone, least of all John, or he'd never hear the end of it. They didn't communicate that way anyway. A knowing glance or brief touch said more-meant more-than any amount of awkward, sentimental words they could muster. Words were empty air on their wavelength.

But John's eyes hadn't always been that color.

When they'd first met, those ivy green irises had drawn him in instantly. The color of tumbled river stones, of jade and moss, earthy and...real. Whatever Cerberus had done when they'd rebuilt him had added an unnatural shimmer of blue. John had tried to explain it to him once, said it was some filter that improved his vision-or something like that. He couldn't remember exactly because John had done an impressively thorough job distracting him at the time.

For as strange as they were getting used to, what he loved most about those kaleidoscopic eyes was how they were a barometer of John's erratic moods. How the flecks of blue flared bright with his temper, or faded away to the natural green hue when relaxed. The faint shimmer of blue pulsing against green as their bodies tangled together, seeking that moment of intoxicating equilibrium. John's eyes were as changeable as the ocean, and Kaidan enjoyed his fortune of being there for every moment of turbulence and calm, a tiny ship at the mercy of waves.

To think he'd almost lost those pretty turquoise eyes-everything-when he'd first seen those eyes. Had they met under different circumstances, he wanted to believe he would've noticed the flicker of the man he loved in those eyes, silently pleading with him. But no, stubborn bastard that he was he'd convinced himself those weren't John's eyes, and the man before him was merely a clone masquerading as Commander Shepard. No matter how desperately he'd wanted him to be the real thing, his heart had refused to trust in what it couldn't see. A mistake he vowed never to repeat.

"Green," he murmured, running his thumb along John's lower lip. "And blue." A flicker of blue ignited in green as their eyes met.


	4. Just Dance

**Just Dance**  
Summary: John Shepard can dance when he wants to.

* * *

Deep bass notes pulsed through his body, thumping in time with his heart. Bodies pressed and gyrated against one another, strangers until they met the dance floor. Despite the deafening music, neon lights and crush of unfamiliar bodies-or maybe in spite of them all-his attention never wavered from the man pressed against him.

Drink in hand, John hooked an arm around Kaidan's neck as the beat changed. Their lips missed each other by a breath as John turned his head away and smiled. Tiny beads of sweat clung to the fringe of his eyelashes, sparkling stars in the garish lights. His lips moved, forming soundless words Kaidan could only guess were lyrics.

As irresistible as a happy and uninhibited John was, Kaidan knew better than to break the spell. He kept his hands planted firmly on the hips shimmying against him, and contented himself with kissing the offered flesh of John's neck.

John went to the clubs to blow off steam and get out of his own head; no meetings, no diplomacy, no need to please anyone but himself. _'It's not about dancing, it's about feeling,'_ he always said. About surrendering to the driving beats. A second pulse-or maybe the only one-sinking deep into your veins and tugging at them like marionette strings. He claimed to hear the stardust in every fiber of his being calling out, a primordial song connecting him to the universe that had made him everything he was and ever would be.

An asari bumped into them, waking John from his euphoric trance. She glanced over her shoulder and covered her mouth. John smiled at the silent apology, a charming little quirk of his lips and a wink. She returned the smile and disappeared into the crowd. It never ceased to amaze Kaidan how the regulars seemed to communicate with their own wordless language.

John's movements stuttered as he struggled to sync with the beat, frustration creasing his features into a frown. Kaidan ducked his head and captured John's lips, distracting his lover with the sweep of a tongue. Relaxing in his arms, John forgot his struggle as he leaned into the kiss, chasing after Kaidan's tongue.

Whether lost in the moment or the atmosphere, Kaidan couldn't tell as John found the lost rhythm. But his movements had changed from carefree sweeping motions to something more deliberate, a message he was telegraphing with every bump and slide. He gazed through dark lashes and licked his lips as he pulled away, an abrupt crescendo to a song only he could hear. Kaidan's breath caught. John's message was coming through the noise loud and clear, and hitting all the right frequencies.

Their friends liked to tease John about his dancing, but they didn't know the truth like Kaidan did. That John could dance as well as any of them if he wanted. But dancing was an intimate thing for him, when he let himself feel as naked and vulnerable as he did in the bedroom. It was just one of those little facts that John kept close to the vest. Something only he truly understood; a secret kept between himself, Kaidan, his fellow dancers, and the universe.


End file.
